A new day started… and just like that, a whole week had already passed.
It was strange how quickly the fog in my head had cleared up lately. The tension, the doubts, the unease that used to grip my chest so often—it had all faded into something calmer, something quieter. I couldn't have asked for anything else. This peace, this rhythm of life with her… I wanted it to last forever.
Breakfast was simple and nice. We didn't talk much over the table, but we didn't need to. The quiet was warm, content.
Once I finished eating, I headed into the workroom. Just the usual pile of mails and client calls, but I found myself more focused these days. The stress didn't eat at me the way it used to. Maybe it was the routine, or maybe… maybe it was her. She just seemed lighter and brighter. And that, in turn, made everything easier.
By early evening, I'd managed to wrap up most of the work. I stretched, cracked my neck a little, and leaned back in my chair, soaking in that rare, satisfying feeling of getting ahead of schedule.
She wasn't home again.
But by now, I'd grown used to that.
It had practically become part of the daily schedule—breakfast together, then I'd lock myself in the workroom, and by late afternoon, she'd be gone. Usually to Lina's, I assumed. They'd become close lately, inseparable almost. And I didn't mind. In fact, I liked knowing she had someone to share laughs with, someone who could help her unwind in ways I probably couldn't.
I strolled into the living room. The silence in the house was calm—not empty. I turned on the TV and let it fill the air with mindless sound, my body relaxed but my eyes drifting every now and then toward the door.
Then I heard it, the soft creak of the door opening.
I smiled.
"Wifeeyyy," I called out playfully, hopping off the couch and heading toward her like a puppy welcoming its favorite person.
She had just stepped inside, pulling the door behind her when I reached her. Her body gave a tiny start, like she hadn't expected me to come rushing out. I wrapped my arms around her waist without thinking and leaned in for a kiss, a welcome-home kind of kiss.
She hesitated for a split second, probably caught off guard. She took a small step back, her eyes blinking wide in surprise.
But then her lips opened slightly not completely. She leaned in.
Our lips met, and for a moment, the world felt full again. Her mouth was soft and warm, her breath still quick from outside. I closed my eyes and melted into the kiss.
But as we pulled apart… something caught on my tongue.
Not the usual sweet taste. But something different.
Salty and earthy. A faintly bitter aftertaste I couldn't quite place. Not food. Not lip—stick. Not anything I could recognize.
I couldn't swallow. My throat clenching, stopping me from swallowing.
It wasn't toothpaste. Not coffee either. Almost… stale? Like something faintly metallic. Faint enough to ignore. Strong enough that I didn't.
Maybe she had eaten something odd at Lina's. Maybe a snack with too much soy sauce or something weird and fermented. I didn't want to make her feel self-conscious.
I smiled at her retreating back as she walked past me into the house.
But me?
I just stood there for a moment, lips pressed together, the strange aftertaste inside my mouth.
I tried to ignore it. Really, I did.
But something about it just wouldn't go down. For some reason, I was unable to swallow it. My throat clenched, like it was telling me not to swallow.
I tried.
No use.
I turned and made my way toward the bathroom.
I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. God, no. Maybe she ate something strange. Or maybe it was something she applied on her lips. Lip balm? Herbal medicine?
I spat it out, trying not to gag. I rinsed my mouth, once, then again.
"It's nothing," I muttered quietly to myself, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
I wouldn't tell her. She'd probably feel bad, or worse, embarrassed. And it's not like I wanted to ruin the light mood we had going. No need to make a weird comment over something so small.
I turned back to the couch, sat down again, reached for the remote to watch some shows to keep myself entertained.
The day passed by like any other, smooth and uneventful, and before I knew it, Sunday rolled around. Finally, a day of rest. No alarms, no deadlines, no tasks waiting to be checked off. I slept in, waking up long after the sun had climbed past its early glow. Breakfast was late, leisurely. Toast, eggs, and some tea. It was nice to slow down for once, to just breathe without the weight of time pressing on my shoulders.
Around noon, she told me she'd be heading to Lina's place. I gave her a nod, offering a small smile, and watched her slip on her shoes and step outside.
I sighed, not out of anger or irritation, just something softer. A rising thought. I understood, she had found a friend, someone she could talk to, laugh with. I was thankful for that, for Lina's presence. It had done wonders for her mood and, in turn, our relationship. But still, the visits were… frequent. Almost daily. I reminded myself that it wasn't anything to be worried about. Lina wasn't a bad person. Quite the opposite. She'd given us advice, helped rekindle sparks I thought were fading. But still, something nagged at the back of my mind.
Shaking the thought away, I turned to the television. A few programs came and went, none of them particularly engaging. I flipped through channels aimlessly, then turned it off altogether. The silence felt heavier than usual. I stood, stretched, and decided—why not drop by Lina's place myself? It had been a while since I spoke to her husband, and despite his slightly intense demeanor, he was courteous, even charming in his own intimidating way. Maybe a short conversation would pass the time.
I slipped on my slippers, locked the door behind me, and walked toward their house. The afternoon was warm, quiet, save for the chirp of distant birds and the occasional rustle of wind. When I reached their porch, the door opened before I could knock. Her husband stood there, towering as always, but wearing a disarmingly warm smile.
"Ah, look who it is," he said, voice deep but pleasant.
I chuckled nervously. "Hope I'm not intruding. Just thought I'd drop by."
"Not at all," he said, stepping aside and motioning me in. "It's actually, good to see you."
The living room was tidy, lived-in but clean. I took a seat on the couch, and he brought out two glasses of cold water. We chatted about the usual things—weather, recent news, small neighborhood gossip. It was surprisingly easygoing.
"Seems like our wives are inseparable now," I said with a smile. "It's nice, seeing them get along so well."
He nodded, lifting his glass. "Helps to have someone to talk to."
I glanced around. "Speaking of which, they still inside chatting away? What are they doing for so long? Their husbands are here, and they're still tucked away somewhere."
He paused for a second, just a flicker of something in his eyes. Then he shrugged casually. "Actually, they're not here. They went out—shopping or something. Lina wanted to check out a few clothing stores, and your wife tagged along."
"Oh," I said, surprised. "Is that so? That's odd, she didn't mention anything about shopping."
He responded quickly, almost too quickly. "Ah, probably slipped her mind. They left in a bit of a rush. Lina gets these impulsive ideas and drags her along."
He laughed lightly, but the sound didn't sit right with me. It wasn't the content of his words, but the way he said them—like he had rehearsed it.
I offered a smile, thanked him for the drink, and stood up to leave. He walked me to the door and waved me off.
I stepped out, hands in my pockets, and started walking back home. The street was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. My mind wandered as I walked, still lightly unsettled by the odd tone in his voice.
And then, just as I was walking towards my house. I heard it. A laugh. Faint but unmistakable. High-pitched, carefree, familiar.
Lina.
I stopped. My ears perked, eyes narrowing slightly. It had come from nearby. I glanced around. The only house within earshot was the young man's. His gate was slightly ajar, and the curtains on the window facing the street fluttered gently. The window was cracked open just enough to let a breeze pass—or a voice.
Was it just the wind playing tricks on me? Maybe the sound carried from farther down the street. Still, I couldn't shake the clarity of it. I knew her voice. That brief burst of laughter—it was hers.
I stood there for a few seconds, uncertain. It didn't make sense. If they were out shopping, why would I hear her laughter here, coming from this house?
I shook my head and chuckled to myself. "You're imagining things," I muttered under my breath. "Overthinking again."
With that, I walked on, trying to dismiss the unease curling in my chest.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was something.